A revised Christmas Carol
by EditorIncredulous
Summary: Scrooge awoke from his nightly visit with the Spirits a changed man. But others were determined that the change would not last.


_My name is not Charles Dickins. So I have no claim on _A Christmas Carol_. Darn._

_Dug this out of the depths of my Word files some time ago; I think I wrote it three or four years ago...? I'm pretty sure that a good portion of the beginning is straight from Dickens - the initial dialogue is, certainly. It's not mine, I swear it! I'm just borrowing for a bit, but I'll give it back... This little fic was born while I was listening to a radio drama of _A Christmas Carol_, and the cynic in me said, "You really think that would fly today? Suddenly start acting wildly out of character and no one would be concerned?" And the writer in me said, "You know what you have to do, right? Or, ah, write?" And now you know the background to one of the more disturbing (to me, I'll let you make your own decision about that) shorts I've ever written. Please review, I love knowing what people think of my stories. _

_Also, thanks to TheRaven'sComputerDesk for pointing out that instead of Jacob Marley, I had a certain reggae musician traipsing through the Dickensian spirit world. *cough* This is why a beta can be so absolutely critical, whether you think you need one or not..._

* * *

><p>Scrooge thrashed about in the shroud, crying out, "Help! Help! I'll change, I'll change! I'll change!" With a jerk, he awoke, the sheets tangled about his feet and tightened around his neck. The morning sunshine streamed through the window and past the bed curtains that he'd pulled partially down in his nightmare.<p>

The thought that it had been only a nightmare never entered his head; his experiences had been far too real to simply discount as the ravings of an overwrought mind.

Scrooge leaped at the window and threw it open, breathing in the heady scent of a fresh winter morning. The church bells were tolling their merry tune, beckoning the people to Christmas morning services. "Why, it's Christmas Day!" Scrooge cried happily. "The Spirits have done it all in one night! Ha ha! I've been given another chance! Thank the Lord and the Spirits both!"

His housekeeper knocked on the bedroom door. "Master Scrooge?" she called softly. "Is everything alright?"

He threw the door wide, his face wreathed in smiles. "Of course it is, of course! Come in, come in! Dance with me, Mrs. Smith, I'm so full of joy this morning that my feet can't keep still!"

"Mr. Scrooge!" she cried, scandalized. "Don't you lay a hand on me, or I'll be forced to call the police!"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, call the police! Call the whole world! It's such a wonderful morning! Merry Christmas!"

Mrs. Smith's face grew worried. "Are you quite well, Mr. Scrooge?"

"Well? I've never been more well in my life!" He grabbed the hat stand and began waltzing around the room with it. "I'm happier than I've ever _been_ in my life!" He stopped in front of her and grabbed her hands. "I'm a new man, Mrs. Smith! A new man! And a more generous one at that! What am I paying you?"

"Why… ten shillings a week."

"Well, I've now doubled it!"

She gasped. "Doubled –!"

"And furthermore, no working on Christmas! In fact, a bonus on Christmas! Yes, yes, here, half a crown! Now go, make merry, enjoy this wonderful, wonderful day!" He placed the money in her stunned hands and shooed her out the door.

Hearing laughter out in the street, he dashed to the window once again. Leaning out, he saw the caroler from the night before. "You, boy!" he called. "Yes, you! Do you know the poultry shop down the street? Yes? Good, good. Can you tell me if the prize turkey is still there, the big one? Yes? Good! Now, here, take this money," he tossed one of his many bags of coins down, "and buy it for me. Have it delivered to Bob Cratchit's house! And, boy, you may keep the change! Here, here, take a little extra for your enjoyment!"

The big knocker on the front door rapped, and Scrooge dashed down the stairs to open it, nearly running over the housekeeper on his way down the stairs. "Mrs. Smith! Why, I thought you'd be gone and away by now!" he exclaimed as he helped steady her. "Never mind, never mind, I'll get the door, you go on home."

"Mr. Scrooge, I should warn you –"

But it was too late. He opened the door upon two men dressed in white. "May I help you two wonderful gentlemen?" he asked, oblivious to the look of grave concern upon their faces.

They ignored him, speaking instead to Mrs. Smith, who had come up behind her employer. "Is this him?"

"Yes, sirs, I'm afraid it is. He woke up this morning…happy. He started capering about his apartments and throwing money to people right and left. It worries me; he usually takes the pennies from beggars, sirs, and he never smiles, much less laughs! Oh say you'll help him, sirs, please say you'll help him!"

Scrooge drew back from the men, the cheer gone from his face, fear replacing the happiness in his eyes. "Stay back! No, I'm but a changed man, not a lunatic! There's nothing wrong with me but a change of heart! Stay away, I'll not have the Spirits' work undone! Please, please, no!"

But his pleas were ignored. Ebenezer Scrooge was bundled into the back of the wagon and taken to the asylum, where he was analyzed and medicated and therapied until he acknowledged the truth; his dream had been just that, a dream, and there was nothing to fear from the mists of the mind. He was back to work by the twenty-first of the year, and he took out his frustrations for the lost month upon his poor clerk, whom he immediately fired for not being hard enough on the debtors who hadn't paid up. As for Mrs. Smith, she was slashed from his employ and blackballed so that she couldn't even get a job as a laundress.

* * *

><p>Jacob Marley sighed, watching as his old partner fastened link after link to his chains, adding them faster than ever. "At this rate, we'll never see him through all the metal he will bear at his death," he mourned. The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come bowed his great shrouded head gravely, turning from the sight. It was the child, the Ghost of Christmas Past, who laid her hand on Marley's shoulder in tender commiseration. "We almost reached him. We <em>did<em> reach him. But men are determined to undo our works. We shall try again next year; perhaps then things will be different."

But Marley merely shook his head. "I pity the generation that depends on psychiatry rather than good hearts to change a man. And I pity the good man who falls into their clutches. I fear we have lost him forever, Spirit."

The child looked over to the spectre of the future, and sadness filled her voice as she replied, "I fear...you may be right."

The spirits turned from the sight, the ghosts to fade until their time came again, Marley to walk the earth as his doom stated, dragging heavy chains and bemoaning his sorry fate. A seed of pity flared in his breast for the man he'd once called friend; for no matter how burdensome his load this night and forever, Ebenezer's was heavier than his. And he would bear it for eternity.


End file.
